Jon Imber: Purple Dahlias
Jon always had a vase of flowers in his studio, and he kept
the flowers for a long time; he liked painting flowers that most people would
think were “gone” – he saw the beauty in the transformation and decay. He preferred some flowers, like poppies, in their later stages, and
admired the spare, modernist shape of the pods. He liked the way the petals of
a lily fell on the table, leaving only the red-tipped stem.
Jon Imber: Hollyhocks
When I brought flowers to Jon and Jill in Somerville, Jill would search through her wonderful collection of
multi-colored vases, pitchers, and bowls for the perfect vessel. When the
flowers began to decay, Jon would move them into the studio and paint them
there, while Jill arranged fresh flowers on the dining table.
In Maine, Jill’s glorious garden provided marvelous tiger
lilies, nasturtiums, lilacs, roses, hollyhocks, larkspur, lupine, and there
were always big bouquets of fresh flowers on the kitchen table.
But even there,
when there were hundreds of flowers just outside the door, Jon would keep a vase
of flowers in his studio until the flowers were way past their prime. He often
talked about how the great Dutch still life painters, even in the most
elaborate paintings of the most gorgeous flowers, would often include an insect
eating a leaf.
Jacob Vosmaer: A Vase of Flowers in a Vase, 1618
In Jon’s last months, last weeks, last days, the house in
Somerville was always full of flowers, in all stages of life from bud and bloom
to decline and decay, artfully arranged in Jill’s wonderful vases, pitchers,
and bowls. Jon’s last paintings of flowers, the brushes strapped to his hands,
were so lovely and lyrical, the brushstrokes falling like petals, full of
poetry and the fragile, fleeting nature of life.
Jon Imber: Nasturtiums
A little more than a year has gone by since Jon’s death.
Great works of art change the way you see the world, and in this beautiful late
Spring, I
kept thinking about how Jon would have painted the flowers I saw blooming everywhere after a long, hard winter.
Jon Imber: Self-portrait, 2013
In May, I always have peonies in vases all over my house. I love seeing them unfold from tight green fists with a streak
of color to a glorious pink cloud with hundreds of fragrant, flowing petals. Once the flowers fade and fall, I usually take them out to the compost pile. But this year, remembering the way Jon kept on loving his flowers until the very end, I am keeping my peonies
in his honor, until there is nothing left but
crown and stem. One more bouquet for Jon.
Blossoming Peony, 12th century Chinese, Harvard Art Museum
for Jon Imber 1950-2014
